There’s something very strange going on with how Americans, especially American intellectuals on the right and the left, understand the Civil War. This centers around the now common use of words likes “traitors” and “treason.” For much of the twentieth century, the dominant national story was about a terrible conflict that had been overcome. The Union was preserved, slavery was abolished, and the former enemies were reunited as Americans. There was room within that understanding to admire Grant and Lee, to regard the Union cause as just, and nevertheless to honor the Confederate dead. The newer way of talking seems to treat the Civil War as an unresolved moral conflict. The Confederates remain enemies of the American nation, even 160 years after their defeat. Their wrongdoing remains sufficiently alive that honoring their dead becomes an affront to American patriotism. What's particularly interesting about the word traitor is that it carries an implication of permanent exclusion. A defeated enemy can be reconciled. A rebel can be pardoned. But calling someone a traitor, particularly long after the conflict has ended, emphasizes the betrayal rather than the possibility of forgiveness. And perhaps that's why the language bothers you. It seems to repudiate a settlement that earlier Americans had considered an important achievement. There's also a curious historical reversal here. In 1865, the Union had every reason to be angry at the Confederates. The killing was fresh, and the tremendous sacrifices were still being counted. Yet the victorious leadership pursued reconciliation. Today, when nobody alive participated in the war, some Americans seem to have rediscovered the anger of 1865. Why should Americans in 2026 feel a need to condemn Confederate soldiers more fiercely than Americans did in 1926 or 1976?